Good morning. It’s tea o’clock

And if it’s tea o’clock, it must be Medium time

Ten a.m. and I’m getting off to a late start. Almost two hours late, in fact. Blame it on waking up in the middle of the night in the midst of a panic attack. Or maybe it was an existential crisis. Who knows? The results are the same: shortness of breath, sweat-soaked sheets in a 65 degree room, and not knowing whether to kill myself or go to the Emergency Department.

Fortunately, the greatest overall feeling was one of “been there, done that,” so I knew that while I truly wanted to die, I would get through it — and that it wasn’t worth the $5oo ambulance ride to the hospital, especially since there was nothing they could do and I’d probably be over it by the time we got to the hospital anyway.

But still.

‘Tweren’t no circus pony ride. More like trying to stay on the bull for 8 seconds before letting go and hoping that the rodeo clowns were there for me.

All of which go to explain why I got such a late start this morning. I lost about 4 hours of sleep last night and so I managed to sleep in a couple of hours.

But sleep isn’t a renewable resource. It can’t be stored up and used whenever you need some extra hours. Once it’s gone, it’s gone forever.

But even knowing this, I’ll probably take a nap this afternoon and go to bed earlier tonight. There’s a difference between knowing something on an intellectual level, and knowing it emotionally. My head says, “You can’t get those hours back” while my heart says, “Go for it!”

Thanks for reading.

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